His Second Chance
by XxJessicaxX
Summary: She was a mudblood. And he wanted her. So when he sat down at the bar next to a pretty brunette with a heart-shaped face and looked into the mirror, he saw something he never thought he'd see in a million years. His second chance.
1. Prologue

**Okay, I've been awol from fanfiction for awhile and I wanted to apologize. This is my first attempt at a Dramoine story. Remember, this is a full STORY, not just smut. So just bear with me and give it a read. Please R/R and enjoy!**

**-Jess**

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"Fuck me or leave me."

Hermione Granger was tired. Tired of being strung along for years with false promises and fake kisses. Her fiance, Ron Weasley, had been promising her marriage and kids since they graduated Hogwarts, but it was now 4 years later, and nothing has happened. He kept saying he wanted to wait till marriage to sleep together, but with his constant Auror missions with Harry causing him to be away, all it left Hermione with was an unsated sex drive and a muggle vibrator who's batteries were always dead. And so she approached her betrothed with this line one night, fed up completely.

"Excuse me?" The redhead asked, appalled at her coarse language and attitude.

"You heard what I said. Fuck me or leave me. Quit stringing me along. I'm tired of this game, Ronald. Its been five years since you first kissed me during that final battle, and four since we graduated Hogwarts. We both have fulfilling careers, but I am tired of waiting. I know you want to wait for kids, but this is ridiculous. I am a full grown woman, I have needs. And what I need is your cock inside of me, fucking my brains out until I can't remember my own name."

As Hermione continued her rant, Ron's face grew more mottled with red.

"Look, Hermione, I told you. I want to wait for marriage and kids. And what happens if I die on a mission, and you're left pregnant and alone? I can wait for sex, and I'm a man. Don't think I don't have needs, too. I don't see why you're so goddamned impatient!"

"If you don't see it, then I'll show you. I took my own fucking virginity with a goddamned muggle vibrator because I was so fucking frustrated with you! If you don't believe me, go look in my bottom drawer. I'm going out!" And with that, Hermione apparated to the closest wizard bar, The Tipsy Wand.

She went to the bar and ordered firewisky, intending to get herself completely blitzed. As she sat down at the bar, she looked at herself in the mirror behind it. Her hair was no longer bushy like in her youth, but instead glossy and sleek in layers. Her nose was always straight and pixie-like, turned slightly up at the end. Her lips were not full, but heart-shaped. Her eyebrows were well groomed, and winged. Her brown eyes were warm with full lashes. She wasn't a beauty, but she was very attractive. So why didn't Ron want her?

She took a shot, feeling the alcohol burn all the way down pleasantly. It was a nice distraction for a change. Ron pissed her off to no end. She turned down many a wizard's and muggle's advances for the sake of Ron possibly making good on his promise and what did she have to show for it? A hyperactive libido and no worthy man to take care of her.

Unbeknownst to her, she drew many wizard's attention at the bar, with her sleek legs peeking out from under her robes, and her slender, fit physique with a full wasn't lying to Ron. He was a successful Auror with Harry as his partner. And she worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with them, dealing with putting an end to pro-pureblood laws. After Voldermort's demise, she demolished Muggleborn curfew laws and the Marriage Law that required Muggleborns to be married off to prospective purebloods and halfbloods to keep the Wizard line dominant. So she was successful and she was attractive, and she was highly intelligent. What was wrong with her?

A few hours later, the crowd had dwindled down and she was swaying on her stool.

* * *

A certain blond's head poked through the tavern door, his sharp grey-blue eyes scanning the crowd. He did not wish to be recognized, having gain enough media attention since his father's death after the war. Draco Malfoy grew into a sharp man, his face filling out so he wasn't quite so beaky looking, instead sporting a strong jaw and masculine features. His shoulders had broadened, his waist still slim and tapered from his affiliation with quidditch. His hair grew longer, not shaggy, but long enough to hang in his eyes in an alluring manner. At six feet, two inches, he was imposing and intimidating.

Malfoy knew what he wanted and he used his deceased father's assets to turn his wealth into an empire. He no longer cared for the anti-muggle and muggleborn sentiment, and thus expanded his wealth by investing in muggle technology, everything from entertainment to boats, planes, and motor vehicles. At age twenty-four, he was a billionaire and a well known figure in muggle and wizarding communities alike.

He was also a bachelor. The ladies who knew him personally also knew his prowess in bed, and the lucky few he kept around were able to divulge in some of his darkest fantasies. But none of them, not a single one, had ever had the privilege to participate in his darkest fantasy of all: To possess a woman completely, have her submit to him, let him take control, drive them both to insanity with pleasure and back again. But he was picky. He wanted a woman with fiery passion, intelligence, bravery, and ambition. And every woman he had ever had, from school onward including Pansy and Astoria and Daphne, always lacked something... something more.

Throughout his years at Hogwarts, one girl stood different from the rest. One girl flamed his ire during the day and his passion at night, some nights becoming so unbearable that he had to take matters into his own hands, quite literally.

He loathed her. She had everything he wanted. She had the academic talent of a genius who could do whatever she wanted for a career. He was forced to become a Deatheater and do his father's and Voldemort's bidding. She had true friends who supported her. He had 'minions' who cowered before him because of Lucius. She had passion in everything she did. He had the cold acceptance of not being able to change his own fate.

And somewhere during the war and last year at Hogwarts, she had blossomed, filling out in all the right places. And so he hated that he found himself attracted to her. And because of that, he distanced himself from her even more so than usual to make it through that last year of school. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into an abandoned classroom and shag her senseless, but to act on that fantasy would be to go against everything he had ever known in his eighteen years of existence.

She was a mudblood. And he fucking wanted her. He wanted her underneath him, begging for his cock, putting that pretty smart mouth to use in other ways besides giving the correct answer in every blasted class they had together. He wanted her restrained in magical ropes, telling him how badly she needed him inside her. So when he sat down at the bar next to a pretty brunette with a heart-shaped face and looked into the mirror, he saw something he never thought he'd see in a million years.

His second chance.


	2. Encounter

Chapter 1

Hermione looked up from her drink and was met by stormy gray eyes... eyes she'd thought she'd never see again after her days at Hogwarts. What was Malfoy doing here, of all people? Why was he staring at her that way? And why was he so rediculously good looking when he looked like an over-sized parakeet in school?

Hermione groaned and steeled herself for the oncoming onslaught of insults. He was a slimy git in school, nothing but a ferret with bottomless pockets and his daddy at his beck and call. He was a coward. During the war, he hadn't improved much. He was tasked to kill Dumbledore, and even though he couldn't, that didn't stop him from trying to capture Harry at the final battle.

His eyes held hers in the mirror across from them both. His stare was scrutinizing. It was like he was as surprised to see her there as she was to see  
him. One silvery-blond eyebrow arched and his lips parted slowly.

"Granger..." He whispered. Just her name. Not even her first name, but not Mudblood. A little better than what she'd come to expect from him. One word, and it sent a strange shiver up her spine. What the bloody hell was that? She shook it off before she responded.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Come to make fun of me? Point out my inferior blood status and claim I need to drink my misery away elsewhere? Didn't you get enough of that in school? Or are you finally out of insults and now have to come up with new ones, and its taking too long to formulate a coherent thought so you're just staring at me like I'm some sort of zoo spectacle-" She was babbling and she knew it, slurring a few of her words, but she cut off with a gasp when she found a warm, long, tapered, perfectly manicured forefinger pressed firmly against her lips, effectively shutting her up.

"Gods, Granger, I hated when you babbled in school and I find it still irks me to this day. Will you shut up a minute?"

Hermione nodded, completely surprised that he had willingly touched her, and she had willingly allowed it. She justified it to herself with the fact that she was too knackered to protest.

Malfoy sighed, dropping his finger reluctantly. He then signaled the bartender for another shot glass, which was conjured with a wave of the barkeep's wand then slid over to him. He poured himself a shot from the half-full firewisky bottle set before them and knocked it back with practised ease, before immediately pouring another.

Hermione just stared at him, watching his adam's apple work as he swallowed back the alcohol. She felt she should be indignant- How dare he help himself to her drink without her permission?- but even in her drunken state, she could sense there was something... off about him. Nonetheless, she didn't think he should be helping herself to something that was hers, when he could have very easily sat somewhere else and ordered a fresh bottle from himself. And she shouldn't feel sorry for him anyway. She sat up straight and hitched her shoulders.

"Is there a reason why your helping yourself to my firewisky, Malfoy?"

"Maybe I just needed a drink."

"You could have gotten one somewhere else... or from another bottle."

"Maybe I wanted some from this bottle."

"Too bad, this one's mine." Hermione moved to take the bottle from him and hop down from the barstool to march off in a self-righteous fevor, but before she could get off the stool, she felt her wrist encircled by a very firm masculine grip. His large hand easily circled her wrist, fingers overlapping each other because she was so small. She looked down at his grip, noting the fine golden hairs that dusted his forearms which were exposed from his sleeves being rolled up. She noted the strong veins that coursed up his arm, overlapping at some points. Her eyes widened when she realized that Malfoy was no longer tiny and scrawny... he was a strong full-grown man. These arms could do some serious damage.

"Let go of me, Malfoy..."she muttered. Hermione felt her heart speed up. She told herself it was from the alcohol and adrenaline.

Yes, that's it... its adrenaline.

"No." His grey eyes bore into hers, a frown pulling down his strong slant of a mouth.

Hermione tugged, and felt his grip tighten... and her resolve loosen. She was being restrained, but it was kind of... hot. Domineering.

Get a grip on yourself, Hermione!

"I said let go!" She tugged again, except this time a little half-heartedly.

"And I said no. Stay with me. Have a drink. You obviously need it." He still hadn't dropped her wrist. And she was hovering between sitting and standing so she needed to make a decision before people started staring.

"No, what I need is for an insufferable ferret to let go of me so I can leave!" She hissed at him. She was spitting fire. She felt a current of tiny electric sparks shoot up her arm from where he held onto her and she didn't like what it was doing. She didn't like how it was making her feel. She was just drunk and confused and she wanted to get away from him before anything  
else happened.

"Tut tut tut... resulting to old insults, huh? And to think, you're the smartest witch of our age. Dumbledore is rolling over in his grave." He whispered in mock pity. He gave a slight yank and his face was suddenly two inches from her own.

She could feel his warm breath on her face, smelling of firewisky and something else. Something spicy and dark. It was heedy and it was making her head spin. His stormy grey eyes bore into hers and she could see every fleck of blue and silver. They were steadily darkening, the long blond lashes framing them never wavering in a blink. Her eyes dropped to his lips, his strong masculine jawclenched as if he were stopping himself from saying something... doing something.

Hermione found herself wondering what those lips would feel like. Were they hard as they looked? Unyielding? Crushing? Or were they soft like velvet? Gentle? Who was behind the mask that was Draco Malfoy? And why had he still not let go of her arm?

Her defense mechanisms kicked in and before she knew what was happening, she had slapped him with her other hand with a loud resounding SMACK that left her hand stinging, a red print across his face which had turned to the side with the force of her slap, and the entire bar staring at the two in hushed silence.

She had hit him! Again! It had been over ten years since she punched him in third year and it still shocked him. But what shocked him more was that instead of the anger, embarrassment, and loathing he had felt last time... this time he felt intrigue. He felt slightly impressed that she'd dare to do that again to him in such a crowded venue, even knowing his social status. And last, he felt..

Aroused.

His trousers tightened around his hardening cock and he shifted, attempting to hide the growing tent in his pants by slowly bringing his gaze back to meet hers. She was a bloody Gryffindor, through and through, her eyes spitting fire at him and her blouse tight over her heaving chest as she panted.

Gods, what he wouldn't give to have that fiery spirit in his bed, biting and scratching as he fucked her to oblivion.

He was going to enjoy making her submit.

"Do that again, and next time I will take you over my knee, Hermione..." Draco growled at her.

He was rewarded by her sharp in-take of breath and her eyes widening, her mouth parting in a small 'o' of shock. He couldn't tell what she was more shocked about, his statement or the fact that for the first time ever, he used her given name.

He wasn't lying. He would take her over his knee one day and he knew without a doubt that the both of them would enjoy it. She needed to be tamed. She was a wild lioness that no one had ever challenged.

That's what she needed. A challenge. Whether it be with wits or seduction, he was going to give it to her.

And somehow, it would lead her straight to his bed.


	3. Discussion Over Drinks

**Hey guys, Jessica here again. Wanted to let you know I appreciate all the feedback I'm getting for this story, it means a lot! Shout out to tookia and Angelus Draco for their inputs and support! **

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Chapter 2

Did he just say what she thought he said? Hermione thought wildly. How dare he! She would never condone being spanked. It was vile and condescending and humiliating. She was the smartest witch of her age, she helped defeat Voldemort, she deserved respect!

_But why does the thought turn you on?_

It does not!

_Does, too! Face it, you want him to spank you. You want him to punish you. To challenge you._

I do not!

_I'm your conscience, I know your innermost desires. You can't lie to me._

_Damnit..._ Hermione thought to herself as she felt her cheeks redden in embarrassed clarity. Malfoy still had his hand wrapped around her wrist. People were still staring. Her hand was still throbbing from hitting him but now that throbbing was echoed down below in her core.

_Double damnit._

"You'll do no such thing!" She hissed at him, looking around frantically to see if anyone else had heard.

"Try me, Granger. Now sit down. You're testing my patience and people are staring. I don't give a flying fuck what people think, but I will not have this end up in the Prophet, do I make myself clear?" Malfoy growled at her, and proceeded to yank her back onto her stool with a jolt. He then proceeded to let go of her and pour himself yet another shot of her firewhisky.

Hermione just stared at him. She was sobering up by the minute, and her thoughts were buzzing wildly. He had touched her. He had offended her. He had insinuated that he would punish her for her assault against him. And then he had proceeded to order her to sit down and be in his company, assuming to continue to drink HER own alcohol. His arrogance was astounding, but she couldn't help but find herself curious beneath her fuming.  
And damn if her panties weren't wet from his show of dominance.

_Triple damnit._

Malfoy threaded his long fingers in front of him and slid his gaze towards her. She was so pretty, all haughty and offended and fuming like that. He always thought she was the most gorgeous when angry. He planned to test her ire many more times before he was through with her. He wanted to see how far he could push her. He didn't want to break her, exactly, he just wanted her to submit to him. He wanted to be the only person she would _ever_ submit to. If her reaction to all the other wizards around her in school as well as at the Ministry were any indication, she had never submitted to anyone in her life. She took everyone by storm, and that intimidated every other wizard around her.

But not him. He wanted to see her reaction to his proposition. He wanted to watch her walls crumble. Her submission would taste so sweet on his tongue.

"Are you sleeping with the Weasel?" That oughta get her attention, he thought smugly to himself.

Hermione sputtered. If she had been drinking anything, she sure would have spit it out across the bar, as astonished as she was. "Wha- what did you just ask me?"

"You heard me. Or did I stutter? Are. You. Sleeping. With. The. Weasel?" He paused after each syllable to be sure she got his point across, a bored expression on his face as if he were as interested in her sex like as he was with a house elf's to-do list.

Hermione was affronted. It was with great effort that she kept her hands on the table instead of slapping him again. It was not any of his business whom she slept with! And why did he want to know anyhow? She glared at him.

Malfoy gestured with one finger, as if he were telling her to wait for him to explain. "See, here's what I think. I think that you're not sleeping with him. In fact, I don't think you're sleeping with anyone because no one can give you what you want. Not a single man that you've ever met can fulfill your desires. Desires that you may not even be aware that you even have, Granger..." he whispered, leaning steadily closer to her.

His voice had became husky. She could smell his firewhisky breath, feel its warm caress on the side of her neck. It made her shudder and her core tighten. Hermione did not like it. Once again, she went on the defensive.

"Who I may or may not be sleeping with is none of your business, Malfoy! And just for the record, my sex life is very fulfilling...and also none of your business." She added a little weakly, looking anywhere but at him, her cheeks aflame. She had never openly discussed her sex life with anyone, let alone her mortal enemy. She was also mentally kicking herself for engaging in this bizarre conversation with Malfoy of all people!

What are you doing, Hermione!? Get a hold of yourself!

Malfoy reached over and trailed a single finger down the side of her cheek, over her jaw, and down her neck, following the trail of blush across her flawless skin. "So fucking beautiful when you blush. I love seeing your pretty skin turn red, whether it be in anger from me... innocent flattery. But what I am really looking forward to is seeing your skin turn red after a good warm flogging just before mind-blowing sex." Malfoy chuckled huskily as he watched her skin darken even more in a blush that betrayed just how innocent she truly was... just how naive in the bedroom she was. He could almost taste her innocence, the way it sizzled between them, the sexual tension so thick it could be cut with a knife.

He looked forward to making her walls crumble.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from responding. Truth be told, she was dying of curiosity, her academic nature urging her to explore what he was saying, to learn all she could about this new dark, sensual topic. It was something she knew little about. She did little more than heavy petting and kissing and taking care of her own frustrations in the form of a muggle vibrator. If she were truly honest with herself, she never explored a man's body, not even Ron's. She was ignorant when it came to sex, and it killed her inside to admit it.

To make matters worse, Malfoy was very attractive, and his status had him displayed all over the Daily Prophet, web sites, and magazines. He was even featured in a few modeling magazines such as Vogue, and made People's magazine "Sexiest Man Alive" title for two years in a row. And here he was, talking to her about sex.

She was fucked.

Malfoy lowered his voice even further, trying to get under her skin. "Granger, I know what you want. No, I know what you need. I know what your subconscious craves with every fiber of your being. I know what you've been looking for for years and have yet to find. I can give it to you... if you'll let me." He watched as she bit her lip, the gears in her head ticking visibly. She still hadn't met his gaze, opting to instead stare straight ahead into the mirror across from them.

He gave it one last shot. "I know something about you that you don't even know about yourself, Granger..." He whispered in her ear, leaning so close that his lips grazed it sensually. He watched as she visibly shuddered. Her head snapped to finally look at him in the eye, their faces so close to each others' that he could feel her breath ghost across his lips.

Bingo.

"What could you possibly know about me that I don't know about myself, Malfoy?" she spat at him.

Malfoy let loose his trademark smirk while running a hand through his impeccable hair before answering her. He knew the drawn out anticipation was killing her. She had to know. She always had to know. He took a deep breath and another shot of firewhisky, then leaned forward again, his eyes trained on hers.

"You crave control, whether it be academically, financially, or socially, you always need to be the one in control. I bet with all your adventures with Boy Wonder, you were somehow leading the charge. And, I bet you have an accountant to handle your financials so you never go in debt. And finally, I bet in your relationships, no one has challenged you. No one has said, 'Hermione, let me do this,' or 'Hermione, this is what we're going to do,' its always been your decision, has it not?"

Hermione blinked then rolled her eyes. "That's no secret, Malfoy. I always have control in my life, everyone knows it."

"Ah, but does everyone know that the greatest control one could have in their own life, is to submit to someone else?" He asked.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. This was new.

Malfoy chuckled again. "You seem astonished, Granger."

"Of course I am. What you just said doesn't make any sense at all, Malfoy. How can you have control by being subjugated by someone else? Wouldn't the second party have all the control, being able to bend you to his will?" She asked before she could stop herself.

"See, I thought you'd might react that way. And in some cases, you would be correct. But remember the great wizard Newton's Third Law of Motion: 'For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.' For example, if I ordered you to strip naked in front of me and you refused, you would be in control, would you not? That's a reaction. Because you would not have to do what I said. You would not divest yourself of your clothing, and I would be left to find some other way to get you to do something I wanted, ergo, an equal and opposite reaction."

Hermione looked thoughtfully at him, shaking her head and chuckling despite herself.

"Wait, Newton was a wizard?"

"He lived during the Salem Witch Trials, of course he was a wizard disguised as a muggle, otherwise he'd be dead quicker than you could say 'Avada Kedavra'... you're getting off-topic, Granger."

"Did you just use physics to explain dominance and submission to me?"

"Ah, so she isn't as naive as I thought she was... intriguing."

Hermione sighed dejectedly. "Even if I agreed with what you're saying, who's to say you won't just hit me with the Imperius curse to get me to do what you wanted me to anyway?"

"There has only been three different wizards who can resist the Imperius curse, Granger, but I do not doubt if I were to cast it onto you, you'd add your name to that list."

Hermione flushed under his compliment.

The bar patrons were limited to himself and her. The bartender pointedly glanced at him and then the magically charmed watch he had on his wrist, signalling that the bar was closed for the night. Malfoy decided it was time to leave before he scared her away. He leaned down, lifted up the back of her hand, and placed a gentle kiss on it, slightly open-mouthed so she would be sure to feel his tongue's caress, savoring her gasp of astonishment.

Draco looked into her startle gaze before whispering, "If it makes you feel any better, I would never allow harm to come to you while in my presence, whether it be in or out of my bed... and I will have you in my bed, Hermione, mark my words." He dropped her hand slowly, picked up his overcoat, and sauntered out of the bar, whistling the tune of Radiohead's _Creep_, her gaze burning a hole into the back of his retreating head.

_Damnit all to hell._

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**Read and review! :)**


	4. An Unfortunate Event

**A/N: Long time, no post... I apologize, but I just got my muse back. This chapter is very violent and contains themes of rape. If you are sensitive to this topic, please skip to the end and read the A/N there where I summarize the chapter. **

**Once again, I own nothing. I just play with the characters. :3**

**-Jess**

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Hermione got off her stool shakily, all too aware of the warm moist feeling collecting between her thighs. She paid the bartender with a galleon, and then collected her coat, draping it around her shoulders and fluffing out her hair. She looked in the mirror, noticing her cheeks were flushed and her lipstick slightly smudged. Hermione sighed and cast a charm on herself with a quick flick of her wand, effectively taming her hair that had gotten slightly frizzy, and evening out her lipstick. The bartender rolled his eyes and started wiping off tables. Hermione took a step towards the door, and realized two things. One, she was still much too drunk to walk straight. And two, her state of intoxication was not good to apparate in. She'd easily splinch herself if she attempted it.

_Shit._ She'd have to walk. There weren't any charms to sober a person up, only potions... and those were at home, of course. Ron kept them in the kitchen cabinet for when Harry came over and they had one too many butterbeers while reflecting on their days at Hogwarts and the war. Hermione buttoned up her coat resignedly and staggered slightly out of the bar. She prepared herself for the long walk home, wishing she'd had the sense to bring along another person as a Designated Apparator... or at least wear comfortable shoes. She cast a temporary cushioning charm on her heels and sighed. There, that was a bit better.

As Hermione walked, she thought about her conversation with Malfoy. She thought about his eyes, the stormy gray that seemed to see into her soul. She thought about the tiny blue and green flecks in them that made them look like a quote from one of her favorite old muggle movies, The Princess Bride. "Eyes like the sea after a storm." They were penetrating. He finally had grown into his nose, too, so it wasn't beaky anymore. His lips were strong with a slight feminine curve to them... only enough to make them devastatingly sinful when he smirked. He had slight stubble. It was enough to give a little shadow to his jaw, and rough to the touch when he kissed her hand. Hermione looked down at the hand he kissed and clinched it, her skin tingling with the memory.

What was wrong with her? It was just a slight kiss... a brush of fingertips down her face and side of her neck, a pressed finger to her lips, effectively shutting her up and taking control. Why was it that only these slight touches set her nerves on fire, and by _Malfoy_, of all people? Something stirred inside her as she thought about what he had said about dominance. Did she want to be dominated? To have control be completely released from her? To have someone else dictate what she did with her body, or do as he pleased with her body. What would it be like to relinquish control to him and let him do unspeakable things to her? The thought terrified her, and yet... It intrigued her.

Hermione was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn't notice the imposing figures stalking behind her. She didn't hear footsteps until they were right on top of her, cornering her to a wall near a dark alley between shops. She turned and kicked one, trying to draw her wand from her robes. Just as she managed it, she was thrown against the wall, a leg pushing her thighs apart, a hand gripping her neck strong enough to choke her. She couldn't speak. She couldn't cast. She could do wandless magic if she could speak, but the man had twisted her wrist enough beside her that she dropped her wand with a clatter.

Just then, the sky opened up and fat drops of rain started slapping the pavement as well as her face and neck, making her hair stick to the back of it wetly and plaster against her forehead. She opened up her mouth to scream, but a thick, foul-smelling rough hand covered her mouth and nose, cutting off her oxygen and shriek in one go. She couldn't see their faces, but heard one chuckle lowly and growl as he sniffed her neck in a grotesque imitation of Malfoy earlier.

"Mmmm... you smell so pretty, little mudblood. I'm sure you're gonna taste just as good. Fear always tastes the best, especially when my dick is plunging in and out of your tight little cunt. Ooohh... yessss... I wanna hear you scream when I fuck you, pretty little mudblood bitch..." His breath was harsh and rank against her face. Hermione turned away and gagged, kicking as hard as she could against her attackers with her arms restrained. She tried to wrench her face away just enough to get a little room. She managed to bite down on the hand covering her mouth, tasting sweat and mud. The man restraining her against the wall screamed and slapped her hard enough for her face to connect with the wall with a resounding thud. She felt her lip split and tasted blood. Her ears rang and her head exploded in pain. He tightened his grip on her arms, thrusting them above her head with one hand, and groping roughly with the other, twisting her breasts painfully. It felt like he was trying to tear them off. She was able to breathe again without his hand around her neck, however. She clenched her jaw.

The shorter man growled in her ear, then leaned forward and licked her roughly from her clavicle up to her ear. Hermione gagged again, trying to keep her face as far away from her assailant as possible, while frantically trying to wrench her hands away to reach her wand. If she could only get a hold her of wand... "I'm gonna punish for you that, you little mudblood cunt. Bellatrix always said you had the most beautiful screams. I wanna hear them, myself. I'm gonna fuck you first... and then my friend here... well, he likes to _eat_ his victims while he's fucking them, mind you. Says they taste so much sweeter that way..." he chuckled in her ear.

The taller one growled appreciatively. Hermione heard a loud crack of thunder and then saw lightning flash across the sky. The rain was coming down heavily now. Every one of them were soaked to the bone. From the way the taller one's face was pointing, she could only assume he was staring at the outline of her tits, her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her bra and blouse due to the cold air. Another crack of lightning, and this one threw the man's face into sharp relief. She could see clearly as if in the sun of a bright day. She screamed bloody murder, which resulted in yet another slap to the face. With no access to her wand, and no one knowing where she was, she prayed to the gods that it would be over quickly.

The flash of lightning had revealed her attacker to be Fenrir Greyback, infamous werewolf and known Death Eater. He was also a cannibal, and she could have not had worse luck. He didn't have a preference for victims. He didn't care if they were adult or child, male or female, muggle, muggle-born, half-blood, or pureblood. When he attacked, he raped his victims, and then ate them, sometimes at the same time. If you were lucky enough to get away, like in Lupin's case, then you succumbed to the werewolf curse, or died later in agony. "I should have had you as my prize, mudblood... oh, your agony would've tasted so sweeeeet at the Malfoy Manor that day, hadn't it been for fucking Potter Stunning me. You were supposed to be mine. At least I'll taste you now... I'll fuck your pretty little cunt, and tear out your heart and eat it before your very eyes while I'm still inside you.." he growled, in a grotesque imitation of a seductive voice.

Hermione couldn't stand to hear any more. She couldn't stand to watch and listen as they tore open her robes and lifted her skirt, shredding her panties in the process. She shut her eyes and stopped struggling, keeping her mouth shut. She would no longer give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream and watching her panic. Greyback had switched places with his accomplice, holding her against the wall with his claws digging painfully in her neck, his wand trained on her face, his hot stinking breath panting harshly in her ear, the rain pelting them all and drowning out the sounds of their onslaught.

She felt rather than saw when her breasts were fully exposed to the cold wet rain. She felt the nipples tighten to hard pebbles and her skin raise to gooseflesh under the cold pelting droplets. The rain felt like icicles to her. The shorter man leaned forward and bit into her tits with needle sharp teeth, drawing blood and leaving gross hickeys across her nipples. Hermione bit her tongue to keep from screaming. The man growled harshly in her ear, "Mmm... never thought Mudblood could taste so sweet..." He then proceeded to do the same to the other as Fenrir watched, his eyes growing black and his jaw slack. He licked his lips in anticipation, his cock growing hard in his trousers, his fangs and claws extending until he was half transformed.

Just then, Hermione heard someone utter "Stupefy!" from the mouth of the alley and Greyback was thrown back against the far wall, twisting inhumanly in mid air, his skull cracking against the wall so hard that his neck broke. Finally free, Hermione's survival instinct kicked in and she kicked her other assailant straight in his exposed bollocks, uppercutted him in the jaw, knocking him on her back. Not caring that her tits were still completely exposed and seeping blood, or that her vision was blurry with the lingering pain, she picked up her wand from where she dropped it and trailed it on her attacker. She finally got a good look at his face. It was Agustus Rookwood, another Death Eater. He tried to crawl over to his wand, but Hermione dug her sharp heel into his hand, puncturing it and making him scream in agony. She kicked him in the face, flipping him back onto his back, his hands cradling his exposed bollocks. He was wheezing.

"Are you gonna kill me, little Mudblood? Muster up all that Gryffindor bravado and do it... For I swear, if you don't, I will hunt you down, and I will rape you in your sleep, and make you choke to death on my cock..." he chuckled lowly, then spat up blood which landed on her shoes. "There, that's as pure of blood you will ever have..."

Hermione's hair was plastered to her face. Her body was in agony. She was violated and broken, but she was alive and that thought made her brave. She kept her gaze on Rookwood, her wand trained on him steadily. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw movement. A dark cloaked figure moving steadily towards her, his wand still extended by a pale tapered hand. She was almost not surprised to see that it was Malfoy who had come to her defense, his lips twisted up in a snarl, his hair hanging down in his face just low enough to obscure his eyes. She heard Greyback stir behind her, but she kept her gaze on Rookwood, trying to decide what to do. Greyback stood up, cracked his neck, and started forward, claws extended and lips pulled back in a snarl, but Malfoy was quicker. Just as Greyback reached for him, he dropped low to the ground in a dueling stance and swiftly hit him with the killing curse. Greyback fell back and moved no more.

"What will you do with him, Hermione? You need to make a decision... let him live and give him the chance to attack you again or kill him right here? If it were my choice, I'd castrate the bastard and throw him to the Dementors..." Malfoy stood up straight to his full intimidating height and spit on Rookwood's face.

"Actually, that sounds like a wonderful plan, Malfoy. I want him dead, but I also want him to be tortured as I was. But he will never fuck anyone again, as long as he shall live..." Her voice was hoarse, but steady. She aimed her wand and whirled it just so, hissing, "Sectumsempra Acutus!" at his crotch. The man howled in pain, his hands blossoming in blood that was gushing out of his crotch, the gashes cutting so deep that parts of his cock were visibly falling off. She reached up to her chest, put her fingers in the blood seeping out of her breasts, and smeared them all over Rookwood's face, making to mix it with the blood dribbling out of his mouth. "There! Now your blood is as dirty as mine!" she spat at him.

Hermione gagged and turned away, burying her face into Malfoy's shoulder. The man was still howling and clutching his severed genitals, steadily bleeding out. Draco did not want his death to be on Hermione's hands, so he swiftly cast the killing curse and ended the pathetic wretch's life. He then banished both Rookwood and Greyback to the Ministry. They were wanted Death Eaters and he knew the Prophet would blow up with speculation at their demises, but he did not want Hermione involved. She spent the majority of her life being in the papers due to being a part of the Golden Trio. She did not need Skeeter's trash writing to sully her name further.

After a few beats, Hermione looked up into Draco's face, and whispered, "How did you know... how- how did you know where I'd be? How did you find me?" Draco brushed the soggy bangs out of Hermione's battered face before answering.

"I had a feeling. I don't know how to explain it exactly... it was like my magic spoke to me and lead me straight to you. I've only read about it a couple of times, and I thought the Wizards who had experienced it were mad, but... but I just followed it by instinct. I told you I would never let harm come to you, not again." Draco took off his dragonhide cloak, and draped it around Hermione's shoulders. Her own cloak and clothes were in shreds; she was fully exposed. He couldn't help but to admit to himself that she had an exquisite rack, but it was not the time to think about such things. He pulled his cloak tightly around her, shielding her from view. "Now, did you want to go home?"

"Yes... I want to forget about this whole night, Malfoy." She murmured, suddenly bone tired. If it weren't for Draco holding her up, she would've probably fainted right there on the spot. Draco turned them and apparated to her flat with a crack. He knew where it was because he kept tabs on her for the past few years after the war. Noticing the lights were still on, she dreaded opening the door, but she knew it was now or never. She turned around to Draco. "Thanks... for.. for rescuing me, Malfoy. If you hadn't... hadn't been there..." she stuttered.

Draco shushed her gently. "I'm going to escort you inside. I don't want that to ever happen again. I want to see you safe, above all, Hermione." His tone invoked no protest from her. She knew he'd have his way no matter what she said. So with that, she turned around and unlocked the wards to her front door, then stepped inside. Ron was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, a brandy swirling around in his left hand, his right twirling his wand, his eyes trained on her in a glare so fierce it made her skin burn.

Oh fuck...

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**A/N: Okay, so basically, Hermione is too drunk to apparate home, so she starts walking home instead. She is so distracted by her thoughts that she doesn't notice Fenrir Greyback and Agustus Rookwood sneaking up on her. They corner her and attempt to rape her, but Draco comes in at the last second and kills Greyback. Hermione punishes Rookwood with a very well aimed Sectumsempra, and then Draco finishes him off with the killing curse, sending him and Greyback to the Ministry. He then apparates them to Hermione's flat and sees her inside safely, where they encounter Ron waiting up for her.**

**Read and review!**

**-Jess**


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